Oh Love
by lilyamongthorns
Summary: "In the dim light of campus, he didn't see the bike or hear the clatter of the fenders before it hit him. His vision was blurred by an explosion of red hair, and hands gripped his jacket while the young female tried to steady herself." Eventual Pepperony. Pepper/Aldrich. AU. Set in the 60s, during the Vietnam War.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I don't know where this came from honestly. It just had to be put out there. Not sure if it will continue or if anything will come out of it, but I felt a burst of inspiration. Enjoy

-O-O-O-

Oh Love – Green Day

-O-O-O-

Everyone had expected him to run wild. To traipse across campus, strutting around the place like he owned it. And he tried. He put on the façade for his mother, just to make her feel better in hopes she didn't think he son was a total failure at having a social life. The Big Man on Campus. In reality, he didn't fit in anywhere. The Physics Club was a bunch of nerds; Tony was smart, but by no means did he associate with the coke-bottle-lensed, greasy-haired kids. Then there was the party scene. None of them desired to be seen with a fifteen year old grad student with a fake ID and a knack for making up stories just to get off. Tony was scrawny, slim, and lanky. Just right for his age, but college boys had long since left the awkward years of puberty behind, while Tony was still haunted by the occasional crack in his voice when answering a question in Calc.

His mother insisted their neglect of him stemmed from jealousy. That was straight out of the Mothers' Ancient and Pointless Advice Handbook. But what did he have that they were jealous of? In his mind, when he was jealous—which was rare—he'd suck up and schmooze to gain some favors. At least that's how Dad did it. The truth was that they hated him. They hated him because he was so smart, putting them all to shame. They didn't want a kid tagging along with them to bars, so he was often invited and then forgotten, if included at all.

Weekends were hell. The campus was dead. The library or the lab was the only place of redemption where he could waste hours of time. Always alone, but surrounded by machines. Machines were easy. Robots were perfect friends; he could have interaction without the mess of friendship. Without any emotional attachment. Machines he could control, but humans were unpredictable, outside the laws of binary code. They were outside the laws of physics; anything against those laws was unknown and difficult. He told himself it was easier to be alone. With no tethers or ties. He liked it that way.

He hated it.

He hated that he was almost ten years younger than anyone in his field. Hated that his research surpassed theirs by decades, but was often overlooked by professors. Hated that no matter how hard he tried to gain a girlfriend, they were all turned away by his sly lines and slick hands. He was stuck. Trying to find himself in a world of older women and spiteful fellows. He didn't know who he was, didn't know where he was supposed to fit in.

Sons of the wealthy were supposed to have it easy. So why was college so damned hard?

He tossed his soldering iron into its slot and stood. It was almost three in the morning and the janitors would be here soon. He intended on leaving the building unseen; no matter how much clout he held with his professor, it still wouldn't look good to be wandering around the lab at such late hours on a school night. Technically, he didn't have jurisdiction in this part of the lab, but rules were made to be broken anyways.

He tugged his crimson scarf around his neck and pulled on his wool coat upon exiting to the bitter Massachusetts winter. There had been no snow yet, a surprise and a rarity for the beginning of November. He dreaded this time of year. Where he could stop living in his own little world and be forced home to Long Island for the holiday break.

He hated that too.

In the dim light of campus, he didn't see the bike or hear the clatter of the fenders before it hit him. His vision was blurred by an explosion of red hair, and hands gripped his jacket while the young female tried to steady herself.

"Oh geeze! Shoot shoot shoot! I'm so sorry!" she shouted, voice bouncing and echoing around the circle of hallowed halls.

Her bike had crashed against the pavement, pedals still circling. He grabbed her forearms, trying to steady her and push her into brighter light so he could get a good look at her.

But she turned away quickly, pushing her tangled and wind-blown hair behind her ears and bending to pick up her bike.

"You ok?" he finally asked.

"Yes, yes…I'm fine…" she stammered, voice hurried and…scared?

"Well…be careful," he said, giving up on asking for a name.

She righted her bicycle, and threw one leg over it. Behind her blush and wind-reddened skin, he could see freckles.

She had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Then she smiled. "Oh. Wow. Now I feel totally stupid…" She laughed and pushed her hair back again, turning away. In the lamplight, he saw faded tear tracks. "You're Tony Stark. Damn…" She chuckled to herself.

"Correct. And you are?" he asked boldly.

"Virginia, but…um…it's Pepper, I guess. So…" She let out another nervous laugh and placed one foot on the pedal, ready to take off.

"Hi, Virginia," he said awkwardly. "Girls crashing their bikes into me at 3am doesn't happen often. You sure everything's ok?" He usually wouldn't ask, wouldn't even care, but it was early—or late—and strange women riding away from the men's dormitory crying wasn't the norm.

He didn't miss the thumb that wiped at her left eye, even though she tried to pass it off casually. "Yes. I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Her voice was steadier and braver.

"OK, well…I'll see you around then…Pepper…"

She gave a quick nod and pedaled away. But Tony couldn't ignore the strange tug in his chest that he should've done more. Could've helped out more. But just as soon as he felt it, it was gone. He didn't owe her anything. If anything, she was the one who needed to apologize for mowing him down with her bicycle. Oh well. Chances were he'd never see her again. No harm, no foul.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: OK. I'm trying this out. I don't know how you'll like it, but I'm sort of excited about it. I know this has gone awhile without an update, but I was peeking through the reviews and saw just how many people enjoyed it. I wasn't ever sure what I wanted to do with it until now. So here we go…

I've decided to give the story a little twist and set it back to the '60s, during the Vietnam War. Pepper and Tony both still attend MIT. Pepper is a freshman, while Tony is close to graduating from the graduate program. They're both seventeen. I've been doing a lot of research on this time period, so hopefully I can keep it as close to period as possible. If anyone has any knowledge about this time period, I'd love to chat.

I've edited the previous chapter to take out some of the anachronisms that were there.

I know the robots and technology may seem out of place, as far as Tony and Howard Stark's work is concerned, but if this universe could be imagined during the '60s in comic form, it can exist. So that's my logic haha.

I hope you enjoy and stick around with this new change. I'm pretty excited about it and I think it makes the story stand out as a bit different from the norm.

Enjoy.

-O-O-O-

The next time he saw her, they were both in the library. He didn't notice it was her at first. But those shiny loafers with dainty little laces caught his eye around the corner of a bookshelf. When he leaned his chair back to admire those long legs, he saw that familiar red hair all neat and up in a ponytail. She had a book open, her nose buried within it. The cover was blank, but he caught the author as Keats, printed along the spine.

She wore a striped blouse with little capped sleeves. She was quite petite and slim, but her legs were longs and lean. Her skirt was black, wide and swishy at her calves. It was his favorite type; perfect for…well…that was for a later date, and definitely not for this girl.

"Hey," he said loudly. Several people around him glared.

She looked up at the noise, her brows furrowed.

"Shhh!" she shushed him quietly and moved to his table, closing her book but clamping it under her arm.

He chuckled silently.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

"Why were you crying?" he asked, referencing the night he found her—or rather she found him. He was blunt and impolite. He knew it, and it made her turn away.

So he followed her back to the narrow space between the selves where she'd been lurking. The fluorescent lighting made her red hair glow.

"Look, I think you owe me. You crashed into me," he observed.

She slid the book back onto the shelf and braced her hand against it. "I told you I was sorry. So go away."

"What happened?" he pressed.

She snatched the book next to the one she'd replaced and swiveled to glare at him again. Her ponytail swished with the motion. "You're being rude, and uncouth. And it's none of your business."

She definitely didn't have a problem with being blunt.

He blocked her exit, placing his hands on the shelves leading to the study tables. "Look," he said, his features softening, being sincere for once—or at least trying his best to be. "I'm just worried, ok? It was late, and I'm just making sure you weren't hurt. You were coming from the boy's dormitory, so I figured…"

"You do a lot of 'figuring,' don't you?" she accused coolly, ducking beneath his arm. "Stick to math, Stark."

She escaped him again, disappearing into the labyrinth of the library. He grew tired of trying to find her after searching only the section next to him. If she didn't want to talk, that was her own problem. He was just looking out for her. She'd seemed nice that night, but maybe it was just because of her disheveled and startled state that she'd seemed that way. He couldn't get friends. He couldn't even get pretentious, stuck-up, red-head girls to talk to him. What was even the point anymore?

-O-O-O-

Days later, just before Thanksgiving Break, he saw her among a gaggle of girls in the quad. They all wore matching sweaters with three Greek symbols embroidered at the breast pocket, and those swishy skirts he loved so much. He wouldn't have noticed her if it wasn't for that flaming hair. He walked by briskly, while she had her head thrown back in a laugh, and tugged her ponytail.

He passed without looking back, satisfied when he heard her yelp and scoff loudly so he could hear.

Kindergarten tactics were working just nicely.

-O-O-O-

Finally home, he locked himself up in his father's workshop, tinkering away on a new prototype. His father's latest creation, dubbed The Machete, was laid out along the workbench nearby. He paused in his work, admiring the missile. It was slim, narrow and sleek, and was famed to be the lightest missile Stark Industries—or any weapons company—had ever produced. His father and the R&D department had harnessed Palladium as merely a thin solid sheet, not even weighing a gram, poised to combust upon ignition and reduce the surrounding 5 miles radius to dust. No other missile had ever been as advanced at this one. It was his father's pride and joy.

The Machete, Tony mused. What an apt name. The jungles of Vietnam were thick and dank. Any verbiage used against the USA's enemies, ironic, crude, and claiming superiority, sold like hot cakes. The entire war had been built on prejudice.

He resumed his work, cranking hard on the wrench in his hand, tightening a bolt at the base of the robot's mobility system: a carefully constructed maze of screws, nuts and bolts, and metal shafts that allowed the bot to move easily by use of remote control. The remote was cumbersome and the delay in command and the robot's response was slacking. That'd be his next project to tidy old Dum-E up for top notch condition.

The door at the end of the shop opened noisily, and Tony jumped, slamming his head against the robot's arm when he sat up.

"Ow. Dammit. A little warning, could ya?" he groaned, rubbing his forehead, glancing up at his father.

"Your mom sent me to fetch you for dinner. Not screwing anything up down here are you?"

Tony stood, reaching for a rag at the end of the workbench, wiping away the grease on his hands. He watched his father move protectively around the room, surveying the Machete and the other projects he had laid out along the length of the vast workshop.

"No, just working on that…" He gestured to his bot. The arm drooped pathetically, the claw bent at an odd angle. A scattering of bits and parts littered the floor around the bot. Maybe Dum-E wasn't quite there yet, but he was a work in progress, and certainly advanced for his day.

His father hummed distastefully, appraising the bot, tapping his fingers along the joint of the arm. Tony knew he'd get no compliment, no matter how impressive this work was.

"It's a bit bulky, huh?" the elder Stark said, moving around his son's work, eyeing it.

"Yeah. I've got a few new renderings I'd like to play around with. Watch out for the…"

But it was too late. His father's wing tip shoes bumped and scattered the pieces on the floor that Tony had so meticulously separated out into specific piles for particular purposes. He didn't look at all apologetic, but just shrugged. Tony groaned, tossing down the rag. He said nothing, just followed his father out of the shop and back upstairs.

-O-O-O-

This was their tradition. Even if Tony was now in graduate school, he was still young, and still loved spending time with his mother. He could admit it. He was a mama's boy. A few days after Turkey Day, they ventured out to the Santa Monica pier, settling at a table on the edge of boardwalk overlooking the ocean, each with an ice cream cone in hand.

He bit into the rim of his cone, licking the excess vanilla from his lips, resting his elbows on the little table between them.

"So, are there any girls?" his mother asked, her eyes glinting expectantly. Her own ice cream cone wasn't even down to the waffle part yet because of her chatter, but Tony didn't mind.

He laughed softly. "Um...well sort of I guess."

"Sort of you guess?" Maria said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her ankles daintily. "What's her name?" she asked knowingly.

"Uh…" He looked away, watching a pack of seagulls over the ocean. Below, a little girl was throwing up bits of bread to them.

"Its Pepper," he said, feeling a strange warmth at the base of his stomach. He hadn't really thought of the girl like that. She was strange, different, and definitely not the type he tried to corner at formals or nights out at the drive in. But she was the closest thing he had to an actual friend, so he might as well make up the story to entertain his mother. Make her think he wasn't a total loser.

"Pepper? That's different. Is she pretty?"

Tony scoffed, smiling. "Is she pretty?" he repeated. "She's great. But not as pretty as you, Ma."

Maria blushed, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "Oh, my Tony. You devil."

He grinned, looking back out over the sea. "She's a redhead, and she's in a sorority." He knew that little fact would impress her; as far as Maria Stark knew, all ladies in sororities were well behaved and mannered like English duchesses.

"Oh. And what is she studying?"

Thank goodness he was good liar. "Uh. Business," he answered. "She's my age." At least he didn't think that part was a lie.

"You should bring her down for Christmas," Maria suggested, and Tony merely shrugged.

"Maybe. Hey, I'm entering this contest for robotics," he told her, changing the subject effectively.

He hated lying to her. But what was he supposed to say? _No, Ma. Everyone hates me and I have no friends. I sit alone in the library, I don't talk to anyone in class, and when I do go out its because the people I'm with feel sorry for me. Aren't you happy your prodigal son is a social failure?_

It was easier to make her think everything was fine. And it made her smile. She never smiled enough anymore these days.

-O-O-O-

Pepper sighed, turning her face away from him. "I just don't want you to go. Its not even the fact that you're going away. Its just that it has to be…_there_," she said with a tiny shiver.

They only had a few more weeks together before he was shipped off the Vietnam. And then who knew if she'd see him again. He knew how she felt about the war, about the country's involvement, and that didn't make this decision any easier. Especially since he had no choice.

"I know, sweetheart." He traced his fingers along her waistline. "But I promised you something when I get back, don't you remember? Just think how wonderful that will be once the war is over." He squeezed gently, tickling her.

She laughed aloud, echoing across the silent neighborhood. "Aldrich!"

He chuckled, growing serious again. "Don't be sad, darling. I can't stand to see you cry anymore. We have the rest of this semester, right?"

She sighed, leaning forward to rest her chin against his shoulder. "Yes." She let out a long breath. "That night you told me…I was just so upset. I think it'll be easier if we write. You will write me, won't you?"

She leaned back to look into his amber eyes.

"Of course I will." He glanced quickly at the watch around his wrist. "Its past your curfew," he said, making Pepper roll her eyes. "I'll be here at 9 tomorrow to pick you up and drive back up to Cambridge. I love you."

She nodded, slipping from where she was sandwiched between him and his Cadillac. Before she could disappear up the sidewalk, he tugged her back to him for a quick kiss. She playfully hit his shoulder, making him laugh before she hurried away.

-O-O-O-

AN: Ah-ha. See what I did there? :) Please review and tell me what you think? I'm nervous about this…


	3. Chapter 3

He strode up to her during a break between classes. She was perched on a bench, with a lunchbox open on her lap, halfway through a sandwich. There were crumbs on her skirt, he noticed. She tossed down a bit of crust to a passing squirrel.

She was wearing that cardigan again today: clean white, with black Greek symbols embroidered at the breast pocket: Beta Sigma Phi.

"Hey," he said, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets. She glared and flipped her metal lunch pail shut, ready to flee.

"No, just wait!" he said, hand landing unconsciously on her arm. Her skin was warm, and he tried to ignore it.

"I just…" he sighed, releasing her, dragging that hand through his hair. "I just wanted to apologize for being so rude. I'm…well…" He shrugged.

"Nosy?"

"Yeah…and…"

"Impudent?"

"What?"

She continued. "Ignorant?"

"Hey!" he said, folding his arms across his chest, and for the first time he saw her smile.

Her smile was lovely. Her teeth were perfect, set in two neat white rows behind pretty pink lips. She laughed a little, ducking her head to toss more of her crust down. "Teasing," she said.

He pointed into her lunch box. "Is that…Are those clementines?"

She nodded, plucking them from the napkin they were wrapped in and offering him one of the round orange fruits.

He pointed to the unoccupied side of her bench. "Can I sit here?"

She nodded, still smiling.

They both munched quietly, watching people pass. She spoke first, surprising him.

"Aren't you in graduate school?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Electrical Engineering." It was weird. He could count on one hand the names of people on this campus who he actually knew, though everyone seemed to know exactly who he was.

"Oh. That's really interesting. So you're developing those computer things…?" she asked, almost hesitantly. "It all sounds very Nineteen-Eighty-Four if you ask me."

He chuckled. "No. Robots. Which I guess are more from the Twilight Zone," he jabbed back at her pop culture reference.

"Whoa, you like the Twilight Zone?" she said, turning to him, all smiles.

And he couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah. Its pretty cool." He popped a slice of citrus into his mouth.

"I love it. But my boyfriend hates it." She threw a cracker at another passing squirrel, grimacing now. "Says its stupid."

Boyfriend? Well…if he was saying anything about this girl was stupid, he was obviously an idiot.

"Its definitely not stupid. But my dad says the same thing."

They grew quiet again. He finished his clementine, looking down at the peel clutched in his hands. This was remarkably easy. Talking. Enjoying himself. She seemed to genuinely care, and she wasn't as stuck up as he had presumed. Maybe a little entitled, but what sorority girl wasn't? He didn't really have room to talk in that department either. Their shared love of sci-fi had gained her several brownie points, and maybe his original assumptions of this girl had been incorrect.

Had he just made a friend?

"What are you studying?" he asked. He supposed friends were supposed to reciprocate questions.

"Business."

He chuckled to himself, trying to hide it behind his hand. He'd been right.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"Oh nothing," he said, smirking. "And its your first year here, huh?"

She nodded. "I only just turned seventeen."

"Oh well we're the same age."

She grinned. "Except you're about three times as far along in school." She laughed and he joined her. Her laugh was beautiful, breathy, but full.

She moved next to him, gathering the bits of her lunch and tossing them back inside her lunch pail. "Sorry to run, but I've got to go to class. It was nice talking with you."

"Yeah, you too." He nodded.

She stood, gracefully smoothing her skirt. "Um…" she turned to face him, walking backwards a few steps. The wind tousled her bangs. "We should watch the Twilight Zone sometime. The new season starts in January."

"Yeah, sure," he answered.

She blushed, but Tony decided to blame it on the bitter wind that was picking up this early December morning. She waved and hurried away, her skirt fluttering behind, lunch box clattering metal against metal.

He watched her walk, waiting until she was too far away to see.

His first friend.

It had only taken five years.

-O-O-O-

When he exited the engineering building after his final lab that afternoon, a familiar brunette bounded up to his side.

"Hi Tony!" she said excitedly.

"Hey Maya. Haven't seen you around," he said passively, glancing up to calculate the quickest detour back to his dorm room.

She pressed her coke bottle glasses higher up on her nose. "I've kind of been hiding out in the greenhouse all week. The ficus, the one that we've been working on? Its finally regenerating. You should come check it out."

He nearly corrected her on the 'we' part. He'd only helped her to stabilize the serum, and that was months ago when she'd developed the first formula.

"Well that's great, Maya," he said, stopping to face her. "I'll come by and check it out sometime."

"Really?" she said, looking entirely too enthusiastic. It almost made him laugh.

"Sure. I'll bring Professor Higgins along," he lied.

"Oh that'd be fantastic!" she practically squealed.

"Yeah. Only so I can be there when he tells you how stupid and incomplete your idea was in the first place, and how pointless this serum is since you've only developed it to work on garden species."

Maya floundered. "But you helped me…And its only just a test formulation. The fern families are most perceptive to…"

He cut her off. "Its lame. No one wants ferns that magically grow back." He wiggled his fingers comically. "Try big crops like corn or wheat, then you might actually have something. Plants are boring. Have fun."

He turned away from her, continuing alone down the length of the courtyard for his dormitory. Maya Hansen was an annoying freshman undergrad with underdeveloped ideas. She was smart, Tony would admit, and her ideas had the potential to be something great if she'd just go the extra mile. In science, there wasn't any room for mediocrity. Not to mention, she followed him like a sick puppy. He could barely get out of the science wing without her tracking him down to press a notebook of new calculations into his face and ask for his help on her latest experiment.

He'd told her at first that botany wasn't his thing, though he probably could've managed just fine. But she'd insisted, so he gave in. Just once. And she was hooked. He hadn't been able to get her off his trail since.

Maybe he wasn't in the position to deny himself friends, but when they were annoying, runny-nosed nerds like Maya, he could stand to go without.

-O-O-O-

Pepper slid the door shut to her room, letting out a heavy sigh. Her brain buzzed with math formulas and theories, ready to get started on her assignments for statistics, but before she could drop her book bag near her bed, she noticed her roommate at her desk, her head in her hands,

"Maya?" she asked softly.

The girl only sniffled.

Maya had been hard to get along with at first. The girl was odd, and different. And Pepper knew it had been hard for her to fit in among anyone else other than her friends in her botany classes. Pepper had would the transition to college fairly easy, but then Pepper wasn't the one that had placed a box planter of mysterious—and often questionable—looking experimental plants now growing out of their dorm room window.

Pepper placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Hey. Is everything ok?"

Maya nodded, lifting her head and wiping her eyes beneath her glasses. "I'm fine."

Pepper smiled kindly. "You don't look fine."

Maya just sighed and stood, going to her plants in the window. She lifted the small water can there and began to sprinkle the odd sludge-green colored twigs.

"Hey," Pepper said, watching her roommate sulk her way across their window sill, watering the helpless earthy little creatures she had planted there. "If anyone said anything stupid, you should just know that they're wrong."

Maya glanced up, pausing in her work. "What do you mean?"

The red-head shrugged one shoulder. "Well…you're great, Maya. You're smart. And you're a really devoted student, and you love what you do. I don't think anyone else has the right to tell you any different. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Maya sniffled again. "Elanor Roosevelt said that."

Pepper nodded. "She sure did. A woman. Standing up for herself. Because she was bold enough to make a difference. And you'll make a difference, Maya. Don't let anyone tell you different."

Maya looked teary all over again. "Thanks, Pepper. You're sweet."

Pepper smiled warmly, reaching over to pat the girl's shoulder. "Speaking of all of that, there's a rally for equality going on in Boston next weekend. I'm going. You're welcome to attend with me if you'd like."

But Maya shook her head, looking back to her plants. "No. That's all you, Pepper. You're the big feminist. I prefer to agree silently."

Pepper scoffed. "Its absolutely atrocious how they treat people. Not just us women. But all minorities. That's what we're protesting, not just women's rights. Did you know that several universities denied African Americans the right to join fraternities and sororities? And when they tried to establish their own, the universities refused to recognize the chapters? I mean….Its ridiculous! They're oppressing us. Only white men with the biggest sticks have any opinions, and even then they quarrel with one another. Its disgusting…all this violence just because people want to express their opinions."

"You're really brave for all of this, Pepper. What does Aldrich think of all this?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Aldrich has given up on trying to get me to see his ways on this issue. Besides, he has other things to worry about these days."

"What do you mean?" Maya asked, returning to her desk and opening the nearest textbook.

She sighed and leaned back on her bed, looking up at the photograph of the two of them she had pinned to the wall. "He got drafted," she admitted, finally able to say the actual words.

Maya gasped. "Oh, Pepper. I'm so sorry."

"He'll be fine," she said assuredly. "I know he will."

-O-O-O-

Psycho. It had a ring to it he supposed. If only he didn't have to go alone. He considered asking some of the guys from the mechanics lab, but they never agreed to go anywhere with him. He'd given up on that long ago.

He waited in line at the box office, people milling around him, the air abuzz with excitement and tension at this new, racy release.

His mother definitely wouldn't approve of him paying to see this movie, but he was always a Hitchcock fan and wouldn't miss it, even if he had no one to accompany him.

His thoughts helplessly drifted to _her. _The red head. Pepper. He could've asked her, but then that wasn't very appropriate. She had a boyfriend, and it would seem unfitting.

As if on cue, a familiar laughter sounded behind him. That high, flitty laughter.

He turned, seeing her several people back. She was bent backwards, away from the handsome blonde trying to peck her cheek. She giggled again and swatted him away playfully.

Tony lifted a hand to wave. "Hey. Hey Pepper!" he called over the din of the crowd, reaching back to grab her attention.

"Oh!" she said, bending her head away from the man, facing him. "Hi Tony!" She smiled sweetly.

He vaguely heard the blonde man ask her how she knew him, but he'd stopped listening. He turned forward in line to purchase his ticket before slipping inside. He tried to lose himself in the midst of the crowd, to avoid the darling couple that had been behind him. But a tap on his shoulder made him turn.

"Hi," she said softly, cheeks aglow. "Are you here by yourself? Well…" she hesitated, gesturing to the blonde man behind her, gripping possessively onto her hand. "I wanted to ask if you'd like to sit with us?"

"Um…"

_No. _

"Sure. Thanks," he agreed stupidly, and followed behind them.

When they arrived in the theatre, the man helped Pepper shed her coat, and she finally introduced him. "Tony, this is Aldrich. And Aldrich this is Tony."

The man regarded him a moment and nodded briefly, turning away.

Pepper sat, and turned to speak to Aldrich, all but ignoring Tony's presence now.

He'd give her the benefit of the doubt. This had obviously been a date.

Tony sat beside her, feeling suddenly intensely awkward. He stared ahead, fingers clenching around the cold metal armrests that separated their chairs. He contemplated moving. Apologizing and shifting to sit nearer to the back, where he'd be away from all the romantic bile glaring him directly in the face.

But before he could speak, she turned to him. "You scared?" she asked.

His smile quirked up one corner of his mouth. "Please," he scoffed. "You?"

"No. I love Hitchcock films."

He felt his eyes grow wide. "Really?"

She nodded, but Aldrich tapped her shoulder and just like that she was gone again, back in hushed whispers with her slime ball boyfriend.

Ok, maybe slime ball was harsh. At least right now. He'd probably live up to the name later, Tony assumed as the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed.

The news reel played first, showing scenes of soldiers at work, tanks and convoys rumbled over the lush rice fields, stirring dust and destruction in their wake. Tony felt like a goldfish in a bowl when his father appeared on screen, shaking hands with President Eisenhower.

He peeked over at the couple next to him. Pepper's eyes looked bleary, like they had the night she'd crashed into him. The blue-grey light of the screen illuminated the glimmer of moisture in her eyes. Their hands were intertwined, and Pepper had leaned her head against his shoulder.

Now he really wanted to move.

But he stayed.

Why did he stay…?

Pepper seemed somewhat comfortable through the movie, jumping several times, always clinging onto Aldrich's arm, who looked thoroughly repulsed by every minute of the bloody, nude-y, psychotic thriller.

At the rumored shower scene, he felt Pepper's little hand move over his. At first he turned, glancing at her, surprised. But she was enthralled with the happenings on-screen, her lips parted in shock and anticipation.

She squeezed tighter, jumping when the slasher barged in. At the poor woman's screams, she bent towards him, clinging to his hand, ducking her head towards his. She peeked out of one eye, and he laughed at that.

When the horror was over, she smiled and leaned close to his ear. "That was so scary…but great."

He laughed again, quietly. He didn't miss Aldrich's glare at them from across the row.

-O-O-O-

"That was horrible. And repulsive."

"It was awesome," she said, all smiles, thrill buzzing through her.

"I'll never understand your fixation on slasher flicks and that weird science fiction stuff. It makes my stomach churn."

"Aw, Allie. Don't be so squeamish," she teased, reaching over to squeeze his rib cage, but he grabbed her wrist, one hand still on the steering wheel.

She gasped, tugging away from his grip, rubbing at her arm. "Excuse you!" she said offended.

The car sped faster, and she was thrown back into her seat.

"I really don't appreciate you being all over that Stark guy."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. He's my friend."

"Yeah," Aldrich said, swallowing. "Well he seems like he wants to be a little more than friends."

"You're being ridiculous," she said, turning away from him to look out the window.

He slammed the breaks in front of her dormitory. "Don't you dare…"

She lurched forward with the motion, but turned to glare at him. "No, Aldrich. Don't _you _dare. Don't you dare raise your voice at me, or grab me like that ever again. You're being absurd and you know it. He's a friend, and he's a nice guy. So get over it."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he breathed quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Her eyes flickered to his free hand, resting on the white leather seats. She took It in her own. "We only have a few more weeks together, Allie. I want them to mean something. So…" She bent across the car to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for a lovely date, and thanks for dinner. I'll see you soon."

She rose from the car.

As soon as the door clicked shut and she hurried up the stairs of her building, her stomach dropped. She felt sick. Her wrist still throbbed, but faintly. A reminder of what had transpired, and what she'd let him get away with, with only a slap on the hand.

She just wanted to ignore it. She just wanted to get through the last few weeks, and be able to kiss him goodbye at the train station. She didn't want to think that anything might be wrong. That there might be any reasons to stop and think twice about what she was getting herself into.

-O-O-O-

AN: I don't really know what possessed me to put Aldrich and Maya in this story, but you guys seem to like it and I have plans hehehehe. So reviews are WONDERFUL and I love every one of them. I wish I could reply to more. You guys are great. I hope you enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

Pepper smiled against his shoulder, swaying along with him, letting him hold her close. Her gloved hands rested, one on his shoulder beneath her chin, the other in his strong warm hand, fingers intertwined.

"Aldrich?" she whispered, bending her head to the side and resting it against his shoulder once more.

"Yes, darling?"

"I don't want you to leave," she sighed. Only five days remained and she'd have to see him off.

His arm looped more tightly around her pale green party dress. "I know. I don't want to leave you either."

She sighed, lifting her head to watch her friends, dancing amongst them with their own dates. The sorority's winter formal would've been perfect if it had not decided to snow just hours before the event started. Of course, Pepper was already at the venue helping to decorate, but all the other ladies and their beaus had gotten caught in the season's first storm.

Besides that, it was a perfect way to end the semester, and to spend another night with Aldrich before he was shipped off. She had all but forgotten about the incident in the car a few weeks prior, deciding it to be unimportant and only an accident. She was never one to make excuses for others, but this was Aldrich after all. He had always been so sweet and tender, nothing but a gentleman. The kind of man her mother would've wanted her to marry.

After the last song, the party concluded, girls making their goodbyes to friends and dates catching quiet moments in the corner. When Aldrich led her out to his car, she was still waving at her friends, wishing them happy holidays before finally ducking into the Cadilac.

"I suppose I'll give you your Christmas present early," he said, smiling over at her as they drove. The street lights glowed, illuminating the patches of snow along the road. He turned onto the road leading to her dormitory, and parked, switching off the engine.

"What is it?" she asked excitedly.

"I would've liked to do this properly, but tonight seems fitting enough." He fumbled in the pocket of his overcoat, tugging out a small, velvet box.

Just the right size to hold a ring.

"Aldrich!" she squeaked, covering her mouth.

He passed it to her, grinning at her shock. "I told you I would."

She looked to him, mimicking his smile and opened the lid. A huge diamond stared back at her, glittering and round and…monotonous.

Suddenly she couldn't catch her breath. The air was dry and there was a pit in her stomach now. Something that told her this wasn't good. That this wasn't it.

"Aldrich…" she breathed again.

"I know," he said smiling. "Its beautiful. It was my grandmother's." He took the box once again and plucked the ring from within it. He reached for her hand, but she tugged away.

"I haven't said yes yet," she said, holding her hand close to her chest.

"Well…" he said, grasping her fingers. "Won't you?"

The brevity of it all crashed on her shoulders, like a heavy weight on her back. She wasn't sure. She had been…but now…so quickly and so unprepared…

"No," she breathed.

"No?" he asked, glaring.

"No. I can't. I…" She brushed her bangs from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just…don't…I'm not sure…I don't…"

"Don't what?" he asked, fury gleaming in his eyes in the yellow lamplight filtering into the car.

"I don't…" she stammered.

"Don't love me?"

"I…" she faltered. "I do. But I don't know if I'm ready for all of this. I'm young and I…you're young and….we…"

"You had no problems when we discussed it before…"

"I didn't know I was committing to anything right then!"

Aldrich closed the box with a snap, throwing it to the floorboard at Pepper's feet.

"Forget it. Forget I asked. How about we just forget we've even been in a relationship for a year and a half, huh? You'll forget me as soon as I leave anyways, once you start seeing Stark all the time."

"Aldrich, you know that's not…"

"Not what?!" he shouted, startling her, his perfectly coiffed hair breaking free in wild strands. "Not true?! Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn't true!" He reached forward, grabbing her chin, but Pepper didn't even flinch.

Silence settled, the only sound their breathing, heavy and pressed.

"Please get your hand off me," she said, eerily calm.

Several moments ticked past, but Pepper held her ground, her eyes staring back into his own. Eventually, his grip loosened and he backed away, easing into his seat, his hand lowering to his side.

Silently, she gathered her purse from the car floor, ignoring the black little cube there next to it. Trying to pretend it hadn't existed.

"Goodbye, Aldrich," she said softly, opening the door and moving out slowly. Quietly, she tip-toed up the steps and towards the door. But she didn't go inside. Her back pressed against the cool brick of the wall at the corner of the building, where she was unseen by Aldrich as he revved his engine and drove away.

She took a few breaths, but was unable to calm herself. The tears sprang up, trickling over her face in thick tracks. She heard herself sob, echoing around the slick, unforgiving walls of the buildings around her.

A crunch of snow nearby made her jump. She glanced up, hoping she hadn't caught anyone's attention, but it was _him._ His black hair stood in tousled bunches, unkempt. His striped sweater and thick wool coat looked so warm and inviting, reminding her that she had left her own coat in Aldrich's car. She shivered involuntarily against the dry, stinging air.

"Oh, its you," she said, bitterness thick in her voice. She swatted the tears away from her eyes with her lace gloved hands. "Well isn't that perfect," she spat.

Tony took a step towards her. "I saw everything. Are you ok?" He spoke slowly and quietly.

"I'm fine. I'm fine, ok?" she said, tugging at her stupid party gloves, stained with mascara.

"No, obviously you're not. When I asked, I didn't mean were you emotionally ok. I can see that you aren't," he said, earning him a glare. "I meant are you ok physically? He grabbed you like that, Pepper…" He shook his head. "That's not ok."

"He didn't hurt me," she said, her voice evening out. But then she spun on him again. "What do you do all night anyways? Peek into cars and try to play hero? Walk around campus and wait for girls to crash their bicycles into you?"

"I can't sleep," he said softly, almost hurt. "I walk around to ease my mind. Excuse me for trying to help."

She watched him turn, but her hand reached out for his elbow. The new wool was soft beneath her fingers.

He watched her, saw the tears glittering in her eyes. But behind that he saw the same loneliness he knew all too well. The desperate and helpless need of a friend. Of someone to stay.

So he did.

He turned to her again. "Its not even ten o'clock. What do you say to an ice cream sundae?"

His mother's tactics would come to good use he supposed, when at last she agreed and hurried inside her dorm to grab a coat.

-O-O-O-

She sat awkwardly in the booth in her mint green party dress, the crinoline beneath scratching into her legs. Her hair was still pinned up in a neat twist, her earrings still glittering in her ears. And across from her, the millionaire's son sat dressed like a vagabond in his sweater, jeans, and coat. In the glaring light of the diner, she could see that his eyes were reddened and purpled with lack of sleep, but still a deep shade of bourbon brown that she'd never seen before.

"Why can't you sleep?" she asked, sipping at the coke they were sharing.

He shrugged. "Dunno. I've never been good at slowing my mind down."

He took his own straw between his lips and sipped before starting again. "I try to go to the lab, work some, tinker around. But it just makes it worse."

She didn't know how to respond, how to help. So she remained silent.

The waitress brought their sundae and she grimaced at the large bowl topped with everything but the kitchen sink.

"What? I thought you wanted ice cream," he said, digging in.

"I'm allergic to strawberries," she admitted.

He laughed, spooning one up. "Really?" He held it out to her teasingly and she flinched back.

"I'll just eat around them." She picked up her spoon and took a bite.

He wanted to ask her about Aldrich, but decided it was best if they avoided the subject for now. He didn't want to upset her again, and what he'd seen in the parking lot was pretty self-explanatory.

So they ate in silence. Until she spoke again.

"What are your plans for Christmas?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm going home to Long Island. For Thanksgiving, my dad had a business meeting in California so we spent the time there. But now Mom's insisting that we stay home. She's got all these traditions she likes to do…and my dad actually takes the day of to be with us."

"That's nice." She smiled.

"Yeah sure. Until he makes up some excuse to leave."

She leaned back in the booth. "Well, I'm from Queens."

He glanced up over his spoon. "Really?"

She nodded. "We should go out sometime…I mean…" She caught herself, and cleared her throat as if to erase her words. Her cheeks reddened suddenly. "I just meant that we should…"

He chuckled. "Hang out. I gotcha. Don't worry about it."

The woman behind the counter ran them out at exactly ten, trying to close up shop and get home before the snow got any worse. Tony offered to drive Pepper back home, and she obliged. His car was even nicer than Aldrich's. She suspected that his father kept his son up to date with the latest automobiles, and her suspicions were confirmed when he told her this was his second car since he'd had a license.

He slowed the car to a stop in front of her building and she opened the door, letting in the bitter air and a few bits of snow that stuck to her hair. He reached over to pluck them free.

"I had a nice…I mean…Thank you," she stammered again.

"No problem, Pepper. See you during the holidays?" he asked, hoping she'd make good on the promise.

She nodded and leaned over to kiss to cheek softly, casually. "Thank again, Tony. Goodnight."

She hurried out of the car, skipping up the stairs by two. Tony smiled, and waved when she turned to glance at him before entering her building safely.

When he drove away, his cheek was tingling. Burning pleasantly where her lips had been.

He smiled to himself in the darkness.

Even alone, he didn't feel so lonely anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Whoops. I don't know what happened. I just meant to write a portion of this chapter, then it all kind of…just…spilled out. Well here ya go. Enjoy.

-O-O-O-

He twisted harder, finally loosening the bolt enough that he could slip it free. He tossed it away, and it tinged against the concrete floor.

"Gonna get you all fixed up, huh Rosy?" he patted the underbelly of the hot rod tenderly. "Dad's got a new engine on the way. Gonna get you all shined up like new."

Briefly, he realized that he was indeed, talking to an automobile, but dismissed the thought. He and his father had been working at the 1932 Roadster for the past three years. Attention to the project had ebbed recently with Howard's focus on the company, and Tony's absence. Not to mention the car had been all but forgotten when Tony, selfish and insolent as he was, had started a yearlong feud before he left for MIT.

But his father had just ordered a new engine, and then they'd have to adjust that, tweak it to their liking before installing it. It would fill his spare time during Christmas break quite nicely.

This evening however, his parents were out attending a company gala that he'd managed to weasel his way out of. They'd be gone all night, leaving him free to dabble with the car by himself.

He vaguely heard the door to the workshop open, tugging at a rusty part of the car.

"Sir?" Jarvis spoke. "A Miss Virginia Potts is here to see you."

"Who?" he asked distractedly.

"Virginia Potts, sir."

"Potts…? Potts?!" He jumped forward, slamming his forehead against the fender. "Shit! Aw…" He rolled away, holding his forehead. Finally, when he could see straight, he shoved himself from the beneath the car and stood. He rubbed at his injured face with one hand, waving to Jarvis with the other.

He panicked, grabbing a cloth to scrub at his hands, tripping among the parts scattered on the floor. "Tell her…Tell her I'll be there soon. Bring her to the parlor, would you? And bring her a cup of tea. Make sure she's comfortable."

"Certainly, sir," Jarvis responded with a wink, and ascended the stairs again.

He shoved away the tools and gave a fleeting shrug to the oil mess on the floor before jogging up the stairs to his bedroom.

He scrubbed at his grease-smeared hands in the bathroom, washed his face and combed through his hair. He hadn't exactly forgotten that they agreed to go dancing tonight, but he had indeed lost track of time. Easy enough when he was in the workshop.

He tugged on a clean suit, eyeing himself in the mirror until he was certain he looked presentable enough. As an afterthought, he slapped on a layer of aftershave.

Coolly, as if he hadn't just rushed to get ready and primped himself in the mirror like a prima donna, he slid into the parlor. She was there, in a polka dotted dress, hair curled neatly and clipped back with a jeweled pin, looking just as beautiful as always. She sipped her tea daintily before taking notice of him.

"Oh!" she exclaimed mid sip. She set the cup on her saucer and smiled up at him. "Hi there."

"Hi," he said, stepping fully into the room.

"You forgot," she accused teasingly. She stood and he noticed her red, patent leather pumps. He couldn't help but grin in satisfaction.

"Did not," he said, poking her in the shoulder when she passed him to exit the room.

They both gathered their coats from Jarvis at the door. She must've gotten a new mink stole for Christmas. It was black and matched the dots on her dress. He wondered if the shoes were a gift too; he couldn't take his eyes off of them as she strolled out the door to his car in the driveway.

He shook the thought from his head and sank into the driver's seat, revving the engine.

-O-O-O-

She was a phenomenal dancer. And not the formal, fancy-pants dancing they did at debutant balls and sorority formals, though he was sure she was good at that too. She did the Twist like he'd never seen, shimmying down just slightly and back up, picking up one foot and twisting that direction. He followed along, keeping up with her just fine.

"I'm supposed to be leading," he said breathlessly over the din of the band.

She laughed, moving just that much closer to him on the dance floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I hurting your ego?" she teased.

"Not at all, Potts." He bumped her hip with his own, just to make her laugh again.

"So I have a question," he said, shimmying up to her. She followed his motion, shaking her shoulders towards him and back again. "Is there anything you aren't good at? You're obviously smart, or you wouldn't be at MIT. You like horror films, you're a good dancer, you dress and act like a princess. So where's your flaw?"

She chuckled. "Oh there are plenty."

"Really? You seem perfect to me."

He'd only been teasing, but suddenly, she stopped. Her arms fell to her sides and her hips ceased their motion.

He laughed. "What is it? Did I hurt your ego?" he mimicked, trying to get her to smile.

She looked suddenly fearful and uncomfortable. She glanced back up at him, eyes wide and anxious, filled with things she would've said if she could've said them. But her will was impenetrable.

The band slowed the tempo, falling into a jazzy waltz.

At the edge of the floor where they were, she could've easily gotten away, but he grabbed her elbow before she managed to. He watched her crystal blue orbs glint, tugging her closer and deeper into the crowd. No. She wasn't getting away if he had any say in it.

He was a brat, and he knew it. And he always got what he wanted. Right now, it was her. In any form she would give him. The costs seemed too high, but then again, neither of them could afford to be alone.

He shifted his hand around her waist and tugged her closer against him. She let out a breath, warm against his chin.

Her small hand was warm in his own, and he gazed down at her. He nudged his nose against her temple, making her look up at him, silently asking her why she'd grown so shy.

He swayed, urging her to follow.

"What…" she began, and licked her red-painted lips. She needed to continue a casual conversation, or she'd just stare foolishly into his eyes. "What did you get for Christmas?"

"Tools," he answered. "And socks."

She smiled briefly before it disappeared.

"What about you?" His fingers pressed deeper into her back.

"These shoes," she breathed, eyes fluttering a moment.

He grinned wide, picking up a smooth rhythm as they swayed deeper into the crowd.

She gave up on conversation, all subjects they could've discussed lost on her tongue. When he spoke, her eyes were still closed.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Her eyes opened, flooding his world again with that brilliant blue. "What? Oh…no…no…" She shook her head, curls bouncing against her cheeks. She glanced down again, not meeting his eyes.

They grew silent again. He tapped his fingers against her spine, glancing fleetingly around the room. She'd gotten uncharacteristically quiet and anxious. He second guessed his decision to pull her in for a slow dance, but only briefly.

He'd go ahead and admit it to himself.

He wasn't sure at what point he'd decided to fall in love with her. But he had.

It could've been that night at the movies, the ice cream sundae, or the clementines that drew him in. The kiss on the cheek perhaps? Or maybe it was this exact moment. He'd always thrived on instant gratification after all. Whatever the case was, he had to have her. She was graceful, sweet, and cute. And smart, strong-willed, and determined. What a rare woman he'd found, and he couldn't lose her. Not now.

He was addicted.

"How about some air?" he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. Air. I would like some air," she answered as if she had forgotten what air even was.

His hand clasped around hers, threading his fingers with hers, leading her from the floor. He helped her with her stole before grabbing his coat and opening the door for her. The hair was bitter cold and strung his burning skin. In the street, she sagged against the building, watching the cars weave and pass along the busy Manhattan street.

"That was harmless," he said, defending his actions before she could speak.

"No it was…not harmless!" she said, taking a breath of the cool night air.

"I just think you're overstating it. We just danced." He shrugged.

"No, I'm not overstating. It was…it was…" She glanced over to him and he read it in her eyes.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

"Aldrich," she said, finalizing the issue with the name of the man he'd nearly forgotten about. "He's only just left…And that whole ordeal was just…hard. And I just don't think we should…because…its not appropriate for us to…"

"To what?" he whispered, stepping closer.

"To…" she tried, her eyes following the visible puff of air that had left his lips.

His hand tugged her closer by the waist, and he watched in delight as her eyelids fluttered shut.

At the last minute, she managed it. Just before he closed the gap, her breath came hot against his lips. "I'm sorry, Tony. But we can't do this."

She'd managed to find that unbendable will of hers, letting it bubble back up to the surface.

And he hated to admit that she was right.

"Right," he narrated. He had to fix this, had to break the tension. "Um…" His hand skated through his hair, peeking at her helplessly.

He was at a loss.

"Its ok," she insisted, smiling. "Its fine." Her hand squeezed his arm assuredly, but he didn't miss the look in her eyes. The flicker of desire, identical to his own, hinted with regret.

"No harm done. It was a slip up. Um…" She toyed with one of her dangly, glittery earrings. "Let's go get a milkshake."

She turned and nodded for him to follow her down to the corner diner.

And like the snow, the tenderness in the air melted away, draining down into the dirty Manhattan sewers.

-O-O-O-

As he rounded onto the private road, the glow of red and blue lights caught his attention. In the trees, the lights looked like the Christmas lights his mother had pressed Jarvis into stringing around the house. But these were brighter, and he was certain there had been no colored ones.

When he pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his tires before he reached the smooth pavement was the only familiar occurrence. Everything else was foreign. Three police cars were parked along the drive. His father's blue coupe was absent, and immediately Tony felt an uncomfortable stir in his chest.

Three times as many policemen seemed to be milling around outside of the house, filling the driveway and front steps.

He pulled further in, and several moved from his path, allowing his access. He killed the engine and stood from the car.

He heard someone nearby whisper, "The son is home," and he glared in the direction of a reporter fumbling with his heavy camera, just daring him to take a shot.

"What's all this?" he asked the nearest cop, who just stared regretfully in his direction before turning back to his partner.

The chatter of radios, the glare of the lights; all of it became a blur. He found Jarvis at the door, standing at the eye of the chaos.

"Jarvis. Jarvis! What's going on?" he asked the butler, shaking him at the shoulders.

Jarvis looked bewildered, shocked, and struggled a moment for his words. Tony had never seen him this way; it took a lot to get any stir from the staunch Englishman.

"Sir…There's been an accident," he said finally.

For the second time that night, Tony felt sick.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thought process for this chapter: "I'll go to bed early tonight. Oh look, is that the sun?" My brain and I have a love-hate relationship. Enjoy.

-O-O-O-

He felt dead. No. He wouldn't even joke that way. He felt like a zombie. He felt like the man in the Twilight Zone with the stopwatch that froze everyone and everything around him. He felt ill, and the hard wood of the pew wasn't exactly the most comfortable spot.

Obadiah sat next to him, arm around the back of the pew, handkerchief to his nose. Tony had yet to see tears.

Before them, two twin coffins were closed and topped with sprays of flowers of all different colors and shapes. The front of the church looked like a greenhouse, from the hundreds of bouquets and wreaths that had been delivered in homage of his parents. Breifly, he thought Maya would've liked to dissect the flowers and pictured her hunched over in the lab, peering through a microscope at each stem and petal.

But in actuality, he just wanted to rip every bough and leaf to shreds, watch it all flutter to the floor in a shower of green and pink and yellow. He wanted to storm up to the alter, snatch up the picture frames that showed the three of them together, happy and smiling. He wanted to grab the cameras of the reporters in the next pew and slam them into the ground until the glass shattered, the metal dented, and the rolls of film sprang from their scrolls.

He hated this.

He hated everything.

He hated everyone.

He hated them and their carelessness.

He hated his father for never telling him goodbye, for never saying 'I love you,' for having that last smoke outside before they left for the banquet, making themselves late. He hated his mother for leaving him here like this, hopeless with no one to talk to and no one tell him it would be ok. No one to tie his tie for him or kiss his forehead.

He heard a painful sob echo against the stained glass windows of the church, and only realized it had been him when the sound died away. He gasped in a breath, leaning over his knees, head in his hands.

He gasped again, another sob shaking his chest, dry and cracking. He felt Obie's cold but strong fingers pat against his back, and squeeze comfortingly at the tendons in his neck.

He couldn't get a breath, couldn't stop, didn't want to stop.

They were never coming back.

They wouldn't ever argue again. Wouldn't smile again. Wouldn't show up at his graduation that May, wouldn't pat him on the back and congratulate him.

He decided that not feeling anything was best. It was easiest. So he locked it away, stored it inside where no one could see. No one would know, and no one would ask.

-O-O-O-

Jarvis tried to wake him several times, but he ignored his knocking on the door of his bedroom, feigning sleep until one o'clock the following afternoon. Finally, the desperate growl in his stomach roused him. Instinctively, he moved to the kitchen, prepping a sandwich and grabbing a bottle of Coke.

Jarvis had left a note on the pantry door that he'd left for the grocery store and to dispose of the flowers that had already died after the funeral. He left a post-script that a package had arrived for him on the door step that morning, and that he had left it on the kitchen counter.

Turning, halfway through a bite of his turkey sandwich, he noticed a small wooden crate, filled with brown shredded paper and small, round, orange fruit.

Clementines.

There was an envelope nestled between two of the orange bulbs, with his name printed neatly on the front.

He could almost hear her voice speaking his name when he read the word.

He hesitated several moments, his stomach churning with new emotion that he just couldn't process. Didn't want to process. He leaned forward, grasping the small rectangle, plucking it from the box. He thought about shredding it. Tossing it into the waste basket.

But instead he turned for his plate, sandwich and Coke bottle and hurried back to his cocoon upstairs, letter in hand.

She hadn't written anything but her phone number, and he laid there for hours contemplating dialing it. It was nearly dinner time by the time he'd convinced himself. He heard Jarvis rummaging around in the kitchen, and hoped he wasn't preparing any meal that Tony wasn't feeling up to eating.

At half-past six, he finally lifted the receiver and spun the dial.

He was thankful she answered, and not someone else. "Hello?" she said. Her voice was cheerier and brighter over the phone.

"Hi Pepper." He heard himself sigh heavily, his breath crackling in the phone.

"Hi Tony," she answered, voice warm and welcoming.

The line went quiet for several moments and he spoke again. "Still there?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. He knew she didn't know where to start, what to say without being awkward or intrusive. So she was silent. That was good enough for him.

He watched the alarm clock nearby tick one full minute of silence.

"Pepper…" he whispered, unsure if she could even hear. "I don't know what to do…" he admitted.

"That's ok," she assured after a moment.

"Have you…" he began, hesitating. "Have you ever lost anyone?"

She was quiet awhile. "No, Tony. I haven't. But sometimes I don't think people need to have the same experiences in order to be there for one another."

He smiled, though briefly, hoping she felt it through the line.

"You're a great friend, Pepper."

He practically heard her smile.

"Are you eating?" she asked. "Are you sleeping ok?"

"Sleeping a lot," he told her. "Eating a little. Jarvis is great at making huge meals that I can't ever finish."

"Good."

She talked and recounted her activities during the holiday break while he listened intently, leaning against the downy pillows. They tied up the line for hours, and it must've been longer than he realized. He'd nearly dozed off, when she said his name softly in the receiver.

He stirred, clinging to the phone. "Hmm?" he mumbled.

"Happy New Year," she whispered.

He glanced at the clock. Midnight.

Outside, fireworks cracked and popped in the distance.

"Happy New Year, Pepper," he said sleepily. He smiled dazedly, hugging a pillow close to him.

She laughed softly. "I'm going to hang up. You should get some sleep."

"OK…"

"Can I visit you?"

"Tomorrow?" he asked, anticipation in his voice.

"Sure. I'll be there for lunch. Goodnight Tony."

"G'Night, Pepper. Sweet dreams." He let go of the receiver, dropping it on the mattress near the pillows. Maybe then he could keep her nearby.


	7. Chapter 7

She arrived at eleven. He'd just risen out of bed and didn't feel up to dressing further than pulling a sweater over his head and tugging on some trousers.

Jarvis had prepared a light lunch, and Tony only took half of a sandwich with his tea as they ate, across from each other at the long dining room table. He would've suggested they sit in the sunroom where his mother used to host tea parties, but the glass ceilings and walls were frosted over with icicles and New York snow. It was warmer here where Jarvis had built a fire in the marble-framed fire place.

Neither of them spoke much over the food. He piped up first.

"You can talk, you know. I'm not gonna explode." It had sounded harsher than he intended, but he didn't bother to apologize. His moods were unpredictable recently, and he didn't feel the need to warn her or make excuses for himself.

She sipped quietly at her tea, placing the cup soundlessly on the saucer. "Have you built anything recently?"

He knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to find him an outlet. Suggest that he work in his usual element. But he'd been avoiding the workshop at all costs. It felt like disturbing a sacred place.

"No," he bit out. "I don't want to."

"I think it would be good for you."

"I don't."

She pursed her lips, her eyes flickering to the tea cup in hand. Lunch continued in silence. Jarvis popped in briefly to announce he was leaving to run an errand, leaving the house empty and silent. Silence was so heavy nowadays. He usually liked his privacy and enjoyed his time alone in the big house, free to do whatever he wanted. But it was almost another weight now, heavy in the air around him.

Pepper's tea cup clanked against her saucer, muffling the whimpering noise he made across the table.

He watched as a tear bounced onto the rim of his plate. What the hell was wrong with him? He whimpered again, this time covering his face, hiding like a hurt child.

He was sobbing and tears were sliding against his palms before he knew it.

Then she was there, kneeling next to him on her knees, her hands grasping for his. She pulled them into hers, bringing him down into her arms. The chair scraped along the wood floor when he dropped out of it, landing in a heap next to her. He bent over into her lap, not really caring how polite or appropriate this was. He cried into her tweed skirt, tears absorbing into the rough wool. Her fringers combed at his hair and her mouth whispered soothing words into his ear, anything she could say to keep him grounded.

He grasped at her, squeezing her hand like it was a tether.

He had had no one. Hadn't wanted anyone to comfort him, hadn't wanted anyone to see him until this moment. With Pepper, he didn't care.

When his breath calmed and his tears had run out, her peered up to face her.

Such a sadness in her blue eyes made him hiccup all over again, and when he kissed her it was wet, sloppy, and sideways. But she didn't pull away. She let him. Right there on the dining room floor. It was scandalous, if anyone would've seen.

He grabbed her cheeks, shifting to his knees, mirroring her, and held on for dear life.

She kissed back. Reciprocating until at last he needed air and his breathing had evened.

Her flushed face buried in the crook of his neck, and he held her now, knees pressed against his, hands gripping his elbows.

He just stayed that way until the shiver in his spine subsided and he could finally speak. "So what does that mean?"

She smiled against his skin and lifted her head.

"What do you want it to mean?"

His eyes fell to the strand of pearls resting on her freckled collar bones. "I want it to mean what you want it to mean."

He knew about Aldrich and all that had transpired. He knew she wasn't ready. He would risk it, even now when his own world was a wreck beyond his control.

"I want it to mean what you think I want it to mean," she said with a smile.

He grinned tiredly, more tears tripping along his cheeks and she reached up to wipe them away.

-O-O-O-

She offered to drive out for dessert, but he insisted he was full. So the drive became a peaceful adventure around the neighborhood and down into the city. Traffic didn't matter. Both were content to sit and chat, or sit in comfortable silence. He noticed an envelope tucked into the crack between the glove box and the dash. Nosily, he plucked it from its spot.

"That's…" she began, watching the traffic ahead. "That's from Aldrich. He wrote me."

He unfolded the delicate sheet of water-splotched and ink-smeared paper, eyes scanning the several paragraphs written there.

"I feel bad for what happened," she admitted. "We really…we were in love. At some point. Or maybe we were mistaken about what love is. But then again, who really knows what it means, you know?" She was silent for several moments before continuing. "He was nice and always a gentleman. And he was rich and smart. You know, perfect for a pretty lady from an equally entitled family." She rolled her eyes. "But I guess I always knew it wasn't him. I just didn't realize until after…"

He listened to her, watching the thought ghost over her face as she spoke. He refolded the paper and replaced the envelope, careful not to wrinkle the paper and leave it exactly as he'd found it.

She pointed out the window at a tall building among the others, grey with great glass windows. "I took ballet there when I was a child," she said, slipping back into the casual conversation.

He listened to her talk about her dance teacher, settled into the slow movement of the traffic. Once again, they were out so late it was after dark before they arrive back at the mansion on Long Island. He had fallen asleep in the car, and she leaned over to rouse him with a kiss on the cheek.

He jolted awake, grunting.

"Sorry," she whispered cautiously, backing away. "You're home. I've got to get home. My parents will be wondering what I've done with their car."

He smiled, turning sleepily toward her. "Ok. Can I see you again?"

She blushed. Even in the moonlight he could see it. "I'll need a ride back to Cambridge."

"Perfect. I'll be driving back Friday. I'll swing by your place."

She chewed at her lip. "Alright. Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, bending towards him and unlatching the glove box. She pulled a thin, rectangular box from within, wrapped in red and green plaid wrappings. "I forgot your Christmas present."

He took the box, gazing at her suspiciously. She laughed and motioned for him to open it.

"I didn't get you anything," he said, tearing into the paper.

She shrugged. "That's ok. I saw this and thought of you. Its simple but..."

He lifted the lid, revealing a handkerchief stitched in light blue with a gold embroidered hem. His initials were stitched in the corner in the same gold.

"This is nice, Pepper. Thank you."

She smiled. "I know its probably silly. But you can never have too many. And I stitched the initials, by the way. I read that blue was a calming color. It helps people sleep."

His eyes flashed up to hers. He could've kissed her.

Wonderful, because he was allowed to now.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers gently and tenderly. He pulled away, running his fingers along her jaw. "Thank you so much Pepper."

She pursed her lips, smiling, obviously flustered as his actions. It was adorable, and he felt alive, at least a little. "You're welcome. Get some sleep."

He nodded, backing out of the car, waving over his shoulder once he reached his front porch.

In his bedroom, he folded the handerchief into a square, laying it on the nightstand. He practically fell into bed, exhausted. Any activity seemed to wear him out recently. His fingers reached over, running over the carefully stitched letters in the corner of the little blue square.

She was perfect, he thought, closing his eyes and letting sleep finally claim him.


End file.
